LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 22: Christmas
Chapter: Christmas in the Studio
December 25, 1987
It had been several months since N.W.A. and the Posse hit the streets, and we were still deeply immersed in creating what we hoped would be a groundbreaking album. Every beat, every lyric, every transition—it had to be perfect. No rush jobs, no filler tracks. Dre and I were on the same page: this project would take time, and we didn't care how long. Perfection was non-negotiable.
But as much as we were focused on Straight Outta Compton, today wasn't about music. It was Christmas. For just a little while, I let my thoughts drift from the studio to something more personal—my family.
I hadn't seen Mom or Sekyiwa in so long, but they were always on my mind. Even though I had promised myself I wouldn't go back to them until I made something of myself, I still wanted them to know I was thinking about them. So, for the past few months, I'd been saving every dollar I earned from street hustling, setting aside enough to buy them something special. We weren't signed to Ruthless Records yet, so there wasn't any money coming in from the music. Everything we did was still out of passion and loyalty to the dream we were building.
Eazy-E treated us more like brothers than business partners, and while Jerry Heller was surely glad he didn't have to pay us yet, it didn't bother me. We were creating something real, and money wasn't the priority—at least not yet.
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Tupac's Gift Hunt
The streets were bustling despite the chill in the air. Vendors shouted their prices, shoppers haggled over last-minute gifts, and the smell of roasted chestnuts and street food filled the air. I tightened my coat around me, the weight of the money in my pocket making me feel both proud and anxious. This was everything I had saved up, and I was determined to make it count.
I pushed open the door to a second-hand shop, the bell above jingling faintly. Inside, the warmth hit me immediately, along with the scent of old wood and polished glass. The shopkeeper, an older man with graying hair and a no-nonsense demeanor, looked up from behind the counter.
"Looking for something special?" he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.
"Yeah," I said, scanning the shelves and glass cases. "Something for my mom and sister."
His eyes softened slightly. "Christmas gifts, huh? Take your time. Plenty to choose from."
I nodded, my gaze landing on a glass case at the back of the store. Inside was a small diamond necklace, simple but elegant, its delicate chain catching the light.
"How much for that necklace?" I asked, pointing.
The shopkeeper adjusted his glasses and leaned over to get a closer look. "That one? $250."
I swallowed hard. I only had $200 in my pocket, and that was supposed to cover gifts for both Mom and Sekyiwa. But I wasn't about to walk away empty-handed.
"Come on, man," I said, leaning on the counter. "It's Christmas. I'll give you $150."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "This ain't a charity, kid. $200, and it's yours. That's my final offer."
I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Deal."
I handed over the money, every dollar I had, and watched as he carefully wrapped the necklace in a small box. As I tucked it into my pocket, I felt a mix of pride and nervousness. I had nothing left for Sekyiwa.
But then I spotted a rack of winter clothes near the front of the store—coats, gloves, scarves, all in good condition despite being second-hand. A thick, dark coat caught my eye, and I knew instantly it was perfect for her.
"How much for the coat and some gloves?" I asked.
"Twenty bucks," the shopkeeper said.
I smiled. "Can we call it fifteen? It's all I've got left."
He sighed, shaking his head, but relented. "Fine. Fifteen."
I walked out of the store with my arms full, my pockets empty, and my heart full. These gifts weren't extravagant, but they were heartfelt. That's all that mattered.
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Back at Home
By the time I got home, the sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the neighborhood. The house was quiet, and I quickly wrapped the gifts in festive paper I had picked up earlier. I placed them carefully in an envelope along with $500—enough to help cover rent and other expenses—and a letter I had written earlier that morning.
I stared at the envelope for a long moment before placing it in the pile of outgoing mail. My chest tightened. I wanted so badly to be with them, to see their faces light up when they opened the gifts. But I couldn't. Not yet.
"I'll see you when I've made it," I whispered, as if they could hear me.
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Sekyiwa's Point of View
The morning air was crisp as I stepped outside, the frost crunching under my boots. Every month, my brother sent something—a letter, a small package, anything to let us know he was okay. It was my favorite part of the month, checking the mailbox and finding a little piece of him waiting for us.
But today was different. The mailbox was overflowing, a stack of envelopes and packages stuffed inside. My heart skipped a beat as I grabbed everything and ran back into the house, my excitement bubbling over.
"Mom! This time, he sent so many things! Come here, quick!"
Mom came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. When she saw the pile of mail in my arms, her face lit up.
I opened the envelope first. Inside was a stack of cash—$500—and a letter in Pac's familiar handwriting. My hands trembled slightly as I unfolded the paper and began to read aloud:
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Tupac's Letter
Dear Mom and Sekyiwa,
I hope this letter finds you both in good health and high spirits. I wanted to let you know I'm doing well here in L.A. Things have been moving fast, but I've been keeping busy. Right now, I'm living with Dr. Dre, a producer and DJ who's become like a brother to me. Together, we've joined a group called N.W.A., and we've already released an album, N.W.A. and the Posse. It's rough, but it's a start. We're currently working on our next album, and I can't wait for you to hear it when it's done.
In this envelope, you'll find a small gift for each of you. The small box is for you, Mom, and the big one is for Sekyiwa. Thank you for always believing in me, even when times were tough. I wouldn't be here without your love and support.
Merry Christmas, and know that I'm thinking of you always.
Love, Pac
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Mom wiped tears from her eyes as I finished reading. She opened her gift first—a beautiful diamond necklace. Her hands trembled as she held it up, the light catching each facet.
"It's beautiful," she whispered. "He worked so hard for this."
I tore into my gift and found layers of cozy winter clothes. A thick coat, gloves, scarves—all exactly what I needed. I hugged them close to my chest, a big smile spreading across my face.
"Mom, he's doing great! Two albums already!"
That letter and those gifts made our Christmas complete. We knew Pac was chasing his dreams and making something of himself. And for the first time in a while, we felt like a family, even from miles apart.
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Tupac's Point of View
The studio was quiet, the walls closing in around me. Jennifer had gone to spend Christmas with her family, leaving me alone. I sat there, staring at the empty room, thinking about my family. I missed them more than words could say, but I couldn't go back—not yet. Not until I had made it.
The sound of the door opening snapped me out of my thoughts. Dre walked in, followed by Eazy-E, DJ yella, and the rest of the crew. The studio came alive with laughter and energy, the weight on my shoulders lifting almost instantly.
Eazy-E pulled out a box and handed each of us a gold chain with the letters N.W.A. engraved on them.
"This is for all of us," he said, grinning. "A little symbol of what we've done so far—and what's still to come."
We spent the rest of the night in the studio, laughing, drinking, and talking about the future. For a few hours, it felt like nothing else mattered. We were a family—not just a group of rappers, but brothers.
And as the first light of dawn crept through the windows, I realized something: this was where I belonged. Even if I couldn't be with my real family, I had found a new one.
End of Chapter